love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke
by Cassy21
Summary: 'The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.'  -Elie Wiesel.
1. Introduction

This story is based on the **Casuistry RPG game**, specifically centring on the history of the characters of Ellen and Callan Urquhart. It will be a collection of moments throughout the evolution of their tempestuous relationship, in no specific order.

I cannot guarantee your interest if you are not part of the game (or even if you are) and therefore do not know the characters involved, but if you give it a chance anyway, I really, really hope you'll enjoy it.

This is dedicated to **Ella**, aka Callan. Thank-you for letting me pinch him for this – I hope I've done him justice. Ellen is entirely my creation. Any other characters mentioned in passing are the creation of their respective owners, and, as always, Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

Without much further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...  
><em>'love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke'<em>


	2. Prologue

_Prologue: First Meeting (Of Sorts) & Introduction.  
>In which we meet the principal characters and learn of their respective backgrounds.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed."<strong>  
><strong>-Carl Jung. <strong>

* * *

><p>She's sixteen when she first meets him, and she's beautiful in that way only confident teenage girls can be. She looks coltish, in a thoroughbred kind of way, with her long legs and hazel eyes and flawless bone structure. She's bilingual: born in Britain, but hitherto educated at Beauxbatons, for reasons of 'family convenience'. He's also sixteen, tall with blue eyes and a thatch of messy brown hair. It all sounds pretty normal and inoffensive, but there's a lazy glint to his eye and a cocky twist to his smile that makes her hate him on sight.<p>

Her name's Ellen Chaucer and she's the oldest of four. With a Pureblood lineage as long and heraldic as the Blacks' or the Potters', almost the entire family is entrenched in the Dark Arts, and it's all Ellen can do to try and shield her siblings from the worst of it. His name's Callan Urquhart and his background is almost a polar opposite, although he's also one of four. Born to Muggle parents, only he and his youngest sister are magical. They don't know this when they meet though, when she arrives in sixth year for the start-of-term feast and their eyes meet and... they look away, barely noticing the other.

Their first lesson together is the first thing the next morning, and they sit beside each other and then they recall that oh-so-brief glance. She thinks of it and wonders why she never realised how loathsome and detestable Callan was in that split second. He remembers it and cannot understand how he managed to resist the temptation to make his way over to her and begin aggravating her immediately. Because aggravate her he does, even without meaning to. She is harder than he is, and they both know it. Sure, in monetary terms, her background was privileged. In terms of love and affection though, she is practically a pauper. She has always had to fight for herself, and for those she loves. It has given her an icy edge and knack of looking disdainful, as well as an almost natural severity and a dedicated application to her studies. It's gratifying though, to find out that she is slightly more intelligent than he, and that Callan has to work a lot harder than she to achieve the same grades. He however, is more laid-back, and positively indolent in his apparent approach to life. It infuriates her.

Callan is sociable, and, having attended Hogwarts since first year, consequently popular and well-established. Ellen is 'the new girl', a bundle of contradictions and the object of much curiosity. She knows nobody, and all that anyone truly knows of her are the shadowy rumours of her family's misdoings, the fact that she beat Callan Urquhart in a test on her first day and that she manages to make a notoriously dowdy school skirt and woollen socks look halfway attractive.

It becomes somewhat of a sport of Callan's, to drive this fastidious, feisty girl around the bend. Her self-restraint is soon legendary in sixth year. She is an ice maiden, calm and collected and level-headed unfazed by anything except Callan Urquhart's insolent easy-going nature. He winds her up because he can: she's got a razor-sharp wit and a tongue like a whip, and all too often he finds himself on the receiving end. What begins as a game though soon turns into a realistic hate, there are only so many times you can be shot down before retaliating in kind...


	3. First Kiss

_Chapter One: First Kiss  
>In which Ellen and Callan discover the effects of inebriation.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>"The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer."<br>-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.**

* * *

><p>They kiss twice before leaving the sanctuary of Hogwarts. The first time is after Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup in their sixth year. The very atmosphere is intoxicating to Ellen – Quidditch isn't so popular at Beauxbatons, and she's never experienced house loyalty and the intense joys and sorrows that come with it before. Add some Firewhisky, probably smuggled in illicitly and distributed by Jack Hewer, and she is positively, uncharacteristically giddy. She's pretty smashed and it's about one in the morning, so she thinks she might wander up towards the Ravenclaw tower in search of her boyfriend, a one Philip Culpepper. In retrospect, she realises that he was probably asleep, but the thought doesn't occur to her at the time. It comes as somewhat of a surprise then, to round a corner and come face to face with Callan Urquhart. He's leaning against a wall by an open window, smoking a cigarette, and his expression, when he finally deigns to see who's interrupted his solitude, is nothing short of bitter. She's too drunk to care though, and so she just comes to a standstill in the otherwise deserted corridor.<p>

'Why aren't you at the party?' she asks, her voice cold even as her judgement is softened by the vast amounts of alcohol she has imbibed.

He shrugs and retorts, 'Why aren't you?'

She nods, conceding his point. 'Boyfriend. Lovely, lovely... lovely boyfriend.'

It's at that point he realises just how drunk she is, but bloody _fuck _she looks gorgeous tonight as well. She has on a boy's jumper, Gryffindor, so evidently not Philip's, and he suddenly has this almost irresistible urge to tear whoever's it is from limb to limb, and he doesn't even know why. She's got shorts on too, but they're so tiny the jumper practically engulfs them, and he can practically see her long, long legs in their entirety. She sways towards him slightly, doe-eyes limpid and appealing. He almost – stupidly, irrationally, pointlessly – expects her to declare her love for him, but instead, she slurs happily, 'You're not lovely.'

He's drunk too, he knows he is, and this combined inebriation the only explanation either of them can come up with for the events that then unfold. In the morning, she can't remember if he came on to her, or vice versa, and truth be told, neither can he. At that moment in time though, it doesn't matter, because somehow, miraculously, his hands are on her hips and her lips are on his. Her arms curl around his neck, pulling their bodies yet closer together, and _oh_, this is perfection, just for the time being. It isn't really, of course, it's just an explosion of half-realised feelings and teenage hormones and lust and alcohol. Mostly alcohol. His hands snake down lower and her leg hooks around his. They break apart when they can no longer breathe and she bites her lip before she steps away again. It makes him want to kiss her again, but she's looking at him with an eyebrow raised, suddenly sobered, and before he can say anything, she's turning and walking away, hips swaying. He notes, with some satisfaction, that she's going back to the Gryffindor tower though, boyfriend apparently forgotten.

In the morning, they tacitly agree never to mention it again. She comes into breakfast with her hands entwined with Philip's, and she looks directly at him but says nothing. He, in turn, turns to the random girl next to him – years later, Ellen remembers thinking, 'she's blonde, she would be blonde' quite angrily at the time – winks flirtatiously, and whispers something in her air. For some reason that's beyond irritating, Ellen wants to know what it is. Why should she care? She doesn't. Right.

Time goes by, and they slip back into normality all too quickly. No-one knows they kissed, no-one suspects anything. Their bickering returns with vigour, just another mundane element of school life. No one is more or less exasperated than they have ever been by it. Nothing changes, no-one jumps out dramatically to shriek 'I know what you did!' And yet, for a little while at least, both of them feel like everything should change, like people should look at them differently, like the other should make the first move and initiate a truce. Neither of them do – nothing changes.


	4. Leaving Hogwarts Behind

_Chapter Two: Leaving Hogwarts Behind  
>In which our two protagonists repeat a mistake we've already seen them make, and continue their oblivious feuding. An interlude, of sorts.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>"Then I did the simplest thing in the world. I leaned down... and kissed him. And the world cracked open."<strong>  
><strong>-Agnes de Mille <strong>

* * *

><p>The second time they kiss is wildly different. She's single this time, for one thing. So is he. They're arguing, but then again, they're always arguing. It starts when she accosts him outside of the library, demanding to know why he broke up with her friend. It's ironic, but now that life has moved on and she's grown-up and <em>everything<em>, she can't even remember this friend's name. The friend is crying up in the dormitory, and Ellen is not impressed with Callan. She's never impressed with Callan, but she's definitely less impressed with him than usual. She jabs at his chest with her finger, and he, without meaning to, automatically grabs hold of it, holding it there. She is taken aback, and so is he. Their eyes meet, almost reluctantly, and then slowly, so slowly, they move closer together.

The kiss this time is softer, gentler. It is almost tantalising, they are exploring each other as much as they are kissing each other. He steers her slowly into a little enclave, her back against the wall, shielding them from view should anyone pass. This time when they break apart, neither makes any immediate attempt to move. They do not say anything, just look at each other, as if they are sizing each other up. The sound of Peeves harassing Madame Pince echoes down the corridor, breaking the mood more effectively than anything except perhaps a maiden great-aunt. Callan clears his throat awkwardly, nodding for no apparent reason. Ellen gives him a look that he translates, correctly, as 'Fuck off'. He leaves.

Ellen waits until she is sure he is definitely gone before sliding down the wall, swearing in French. She remains there for at least ten minutes before heading back to the Common Room. To her relief, he is not there.

This time, they know the routine - she blanks him, he blanks her. They fight. This lasts until the end of the school year – which, coincidentally is only a week after - and they both leave school in a blaze of glory, their grades equally amazing and their rivalry now legendary. He is bound for Auror-training, a fact he doesn't deign to share with her, because why would he? She, in turn, is applying for a lowly job at the Daily Prophet. The whole school knows this, because it seems crazy that Ellen Chaucer isn't entering some high-flying fast-track programme to become Minister of Magic, or something. Only she knows the truth though: she wants to be close to her younger siblings. There are rumours of Dark Magic rising and trouble afoot, and she doesn't want her family to drag them into it. Being a journalist will give her the anonymity she needs to investigate and the flexibility she needs to keep an eye on Gloria and Robert and Michael. It still feels like a final triumph for Callan Urquhart, for though she doesn't know his exact career plan, she knows it will be something brilliant, and she hates that he knows that she will be low-ranking and unimportant in comparison.

She decides to make the best of it, because, really, what else can she do? She enjoys herself, continuing to date a string of beautiful guys. Callan follows her progress without really meaning to. He tries to justify it by noting that it is merely interesting to see how his nemesis is progressing in the world. He has a couple of flings, nothing important, and nowhere near as many as Ellen. He finds himself – sometimes, not often, but sometimes – wondering what exactly she is looking for by going through so many boyfriends. Love, truth, justice? He can't picture it somehow, and he's not sure why.

For her part, Ellen does her best to forget Callan Urquhart, and his sure-to-be-meteoric career trajectory; she doesn't think she could bear the final humiliation. Despite outwards appearances, she hates the unexciting humdrum of her career, and everything that comes with it. She doesn't take any shit, and it tends to land her in trouble. She wants to be doing something, not writing about the people who are doing something to change the world. She writes for the crime section, and it disturbs her to see how often members of the Chaucer family and their associates crop up in the news pages. She does all that she can to protect her siblings from the worst of it. Eventually a boyfriend jokily suggests that if she's so intent on saving the world, maybe she should do something, instead of reporting it. Why not be an auror, he teases. She breaks up with him the week after – he said he loved her, and in doing so, outstayed his welcome. His idea though, remains with her, and try as she might, she can't shake the feeling that that is exactly what she should be doing. She is twenty, and the feeling that time is creeping up on her is becoming ever more prevalent. It's Robert, aged fifteen, who decides for her in the end, demanding in his typically little-brother way that she stop moping about, and do what she wants, because now that Gloria, the youngest, is finally at Hogwarts, there is nothing more she can do to look after them. She nods, stunned, and sends off her application form the next day, euphoric at the possibility of a long-awaited change.


End file.
